


As a Charlotte Child

by SiZodiac



Series: To Carry the Charlotte Name [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Gen, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/pseuds/SiZodiac
Summary: Charlotte Linlin wasn’t always an Emperor, and it was not so easy growing up or surviving as children of a neglectful pirate mother.This was the beginning before Big Mom Pirates fame.EDIT: Series edited again to accommodate some new information! Big Mom Pirates first settled on WCI estimated around 35 years ago rather than 32.





	1. Eggs

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [As a Charlotte Child 夏洛特家的孩子 (甜點)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285761) by [fakescorpion (SiZodiac)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/pseuds/fakescorpion), [SiZodiac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/pseuds/SiZodiac)



**Eggs**

~ 48 years ago ~  
Perospero (age 2), Compote (age 2)

The earliest memory Perospero could recall was when he was only two years old and hearing the sound of children’s cry. He remembered the touch of his twin sister Compote’s warm palm holding onto his own, and them sharing a nervous smile. A storm was raging outside the cabin and their mother’s pirate ship shook violently as sea waves crashed into starboard.

A set of triplets were born that day, out at sea during a heavy storm with the howling wind as their first lullaby, their father nowhere to be seen. This was the moment Perospero officially became an older brother, and he was ecstatic.

.

The earliest memory Compote could recall was the sharp pain of a gunshot, right over her chest. She was only two years old at the time.

It was a sunny day on an autumn island. Mama’s pirate ship had just docked after a monthlong journey, and there was a small kingdom someways off their location for the crew to have some fun. Compote and Perospero were not allowed to go of course, being too young and prone to get in the way as adults conducted their businesses. Whatever that meant. They were told to stay with their nanny, who was feeding Katakuri with a bottle out on deck while rocking a large portable crib their carpenter had built for the month-old baby triplets, because Oven would always cry when alone and Katakuri refused to sleep at night if his minutes-younger brothers were not within his immediate proximity.

Watching the ship was boring, so Compote and Perospero went to explore in the nearby woods. There were some oddly shaped fruits growing on the tall trees that caught Compote’s attention, just out of her reach. It wasn’t that hard to talk Perospero into climbing the trees for her though, because her twin brother just loved to show off whenever he got the chance. It was a lot of fun.

Then Katakuri suddenly started to wail, extremely uncharacteristic of the usually quiet child, like a warning. His unnaturally wide mouth splitting all the way to his ears as he emitted a loud shriek that shocked the dozing crew on guard duty into wakefulness. That was when the men came, all with absurdly long necks and dressed in the exotic armored robes of the local soldiers, to drove the unwanted pirates away.

There were gunshots and the clashing of swords as men and women engaged in battle. Compote pushed Perospero into a nearby bush to hide her older brother’s slim figure from enemy sight, while knowing that it was too late to find another hiding spot for herself. Amid the chaos, Compote was shot. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced before in her too young life. The sensation of sharp agony spreading across her chest in the shape of an ugly bruise, carving a traumatic memory into her mind before unconsciousness claimed her thoughts. It was lucky Compote inherited some degree of her mother’s iron skin.

When Compote recovered enough to finally leave the ship infirmary a few days later, she found Perospero out on deck with a wooden staff in his hands. Perospero was only two years old then as well, and having witnessed his twin sibling shot was a rather distressing life lesson learned too young. He understood then that he needed to get stronger, to protect all that he loved and cherished.

.

They ended up staying on that island for almost a year. Charlotte Linlin married the local king who was ensnared by her devastating beauty, and a set of half-snakeneck quadruplets were born in the extravagant royal bedroom of the kingdom castle. There was much celebration and cheer.

Linlin took her crew and her nine children, and left the very next day.

.

~ 47 to 45 years ago ~  
Oven (age 1 to age 3)

Sister Compote was teaching them new words when Brother Perospero entered their shared room on the ship, tongue dangling as he waved a hand. Daifuku and Oven looked first at their eldest brother in curiosity, before turning as one to Katakuri. Katakuri tilted his head.

“What is it?” Compote asked.

“Come, come!” Perospero waved his hand again, impatient. “Don’t you want to see our little sisters? They’re adorable, perorin~”

Daifuku didn’t appear to be that interested to be honest, but Oven’s eyes lit up like fireworks. Their little sisters were of royalty blood, if not for their Mama deciding to steal them away, it was very possible that they would not have the chance to grow up together.

.

The father of Opera, Counter, Cadenza, Cabaletta, and Gala used to be a crew member on the pirate ship. Katakuri dutifully stayed by Mama’s side after the quintuplets were born, so only Daifuku and Oven were there on deck to witness the soon-to-be-ex-father walk the plank. A grown man crying rivers of tear in between declarations of eternal love and devolution that ultimately went ignored, before plummeting into the sea.

“Do you ever wonder who was our biological father?” Oven suddenly asked, looking up as he finished his browned toast with jam. His tiny legs swinging on the railing.

Daifuku scoffed, mouth full of the glutinous rice cake he so enjoyed. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” Oven shrugged, gazing out into the vast ocean and the silhouette of seakings in the horizon. “Probably dead anyway.”

.

The triplets Cracker, Custard, and Angel were born too early into the Charlotte family, when Charlotte Linlin went into premature labor. They were underweight and tiny, especially compared to their Mama’s gigantic size.

Oven, at age three, was old enough to hold such small babies by himself. He was so happy as he carefully held the newborn Cracker in his arms, ahhh-ing and cooing in delight. Daifuku chuckled, poking the baby lightly on the rosy cheeks. “He’s so small and soft.”

“No fair, Brother Oven! We want to see him, too!” Hachee cried, craning her long neck and stomping her foot. Her shorter two-year-old quadruplet sisters Mondee and Effiler tugged futilely at their taller brother’s shirt.

“Be careful over there!” Perospero called out from the other side of the room, as he and Sister Compote were too busy changing the quintuplet brothers’ diapers. “Mama would get very angry if you accidentally dropped Cracker!”

“Don’t worry, Brother Peros! I’ll be careful!” Oven reassured, sitting down on a pile of cushions so his younger sisters could gather around him as well.

There was a knock on the door. Katakuri and Amande entered the room. “Were we late? I was training with Brother Kata.” Amande said as she walked inside. A wooden sword held in one hand, while the other held tightly onto Katakuri’s free hand.

“Don’t worry, you’re just in time.” Compote replied, finishing up with the quintuplets and went to clean her hands. “Put the toys away and wash your hands, boys and girls. Perospero, go tell head-chef Streusen to get our snacks.”

“Yay!” called the younger siblings in uniformed chorus. Tea Party with Mama and Snack Time with each other were the Charlotte children’s favorite entertainment out on the sea. Sister Compote pushed the triplet girls' shared crib to the recreational area and Brother Peros soon came back with a trolley full of all the sweetest confections. Whipped chocolate and cream, yogurt and sponge cakes and donuts and fruits, and different types of sugared tea.

Perospero, Compote, and Daifuku sat on the couch to watch over the baby girls Custard and Angel, while the younger siblings gathered on the floor cushions with Oven and Baby Cracker in the middle. They laughed and talked as they passed food around, but the moment Katakuri came near, Cracker bursted into tears.

Katakuri immediately shut his mouth.

“It’s my fault. I scared him.” Katakuri murmured, feeling guilty. “I always scare the babies.”

“Did not!” Hachee pouted. “I was never scared!”

“Yes, you were!” Mondee said, “Brother Peros said so!” Effiler nodded, Amande frowned.

“Hey, don’t drag me into this, perorin~!” Perospero licked his lips in denial. Compote smacked him on the head. Cadenza and Cabaletta on the ground started to get teary-eyed due to the escalating noise of their older siblings arguing, but it was Opera—the eldest of the one-year-old quintuplets—who began to cry first. Custard and Angel were roused from their nap, and started shrieking in their high-pitched tone.

“For the love of...” Daifuku moaned, burying his face into his hands. Oven just let out a patient sigh as he tried to soothe the distraught baby in his arms.

.

Two days later, Oven discovered to his horror that Katakuri had somehow managed to coerce the ship doctor into sewing his mouth down to average human width. There was much panicking amongst the Charlotte children, and Brother Peros ended up quite convinced it was his fault as the eldest child.

Katakuri was having none of that of course, and regretted nothing. Mama just found her second son’s conviction amusing and her cheery laughter rang out throughout the ship.

A month later, Katakuri’s condition was stable and everyone finally got used to the twin scars on his face. Katakuri became Cracker’s favorite older brother, and in the many following years Katakuri gets to hold his baby siblings Zuccotto and Brulee and Broye as they were born, and watch them smile instead of cry. So all was well, and in Katakuri’s opinion the temporary discomfort that resulted in his facial scars was totally worth it.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that Katakuri DOES have a degree of observation haki as a baby, similar to how Aisa and Queen Otohime were born with this ability. That was why he suddenly started crying right before the attack.


	2. Milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the tags, this fic contained contents concerning traumatic childhood experiences typical of the canon material. Additional warning for this chapter on the bottom page.

**Milk**

~ 42 years ago ~  
Mondee (age 5), Perospero (age 8)

The Charlotte family was getting larger. There was soon not enough available space onboard Charlotte Linlin’s pirate ship to house this many children who could not serve as her crew, so six months after the twin girls Brulee and Broye were born, the twenty children were put on a spring island in the New World with their nanny.

Mama had the shipwright built a cozy little cottage at the outskirt of a small port town, by the forest away from prying eyes and with a great view of the sea. She promised to be back within the year and left her children with sufficient monetary riches to last until she did, in addition to having chef Streusen create enough food with his powers for them for the first few weeks. There were still lots of children crying and throwing tantrums, for this was their first time away from their good Mama, but there was nothing anyone could do but watch with watery eyes as the ship they considered home disappear into the never-ending sea.

Mondee was unhappy and scared, but Mama wanted them to behave, so Mondee dried her tears. She walked up to Brother Katakuri, who had his hands full trying to calm the twin baby girls wailing in his arms, and offered to lighten his load. Brother Katakuri gave her a rare smile, fangs sharp against his lips, and placed Baby Broye into her arms.

The day had been long and tiring. As Mondee gently sang to the baby, she noticed that Brother Katakuri had fallen asleep as well, sitting up leaning against a large rock with Baby Brulee dozing against his chest. It was an endearing sight, and perhaps all would be fine.

A week after the departure of Mama’s pirate ship, their nanny stole most of their money and abandoned them in the night. At age five, Mondee learned the definition of betrayal.

.

It took two more days for the Charlotte siblings to finally understand that their designated caretaker was never coming back. Perospero and Compote were the oldest but nevertheless still children then, at the tender age of eight, but suddenly found themselves responsible for the dwindling food supply and with twenty mouths to feed.

“I’m going to try to find a job in town tomorrow, perorin~” Perospero announced as the eldest children gathered together by the small stove fire, deep in the night after they had put their younger siblings to bed. “We need money to buy milk for Brulee and Broye, and other products for hygiene and childcare.”

“I’ll look for fruits in the forest,” Compote offered, “I’ve memorized the details of all edible wild fruits and berries recorded in head-chef Streusen’s gourmet encyclopedia. Cabaletta and Gala could help me.”

“That’s a good idea.” Daifuku agreed. “There should be many wild animals deeper in the mountains. Mama left us with some knives and spears. Oven and I could hunt whatever we managed to find.”

“And we could take Amande and Hachee with us!” Oven added. “I’d say they are old enough to start using real blades anyway.”

“They’re only five!” Compote exclaimed. “Don’t you think that is a little too dangerous?”

“Yeah, well. We’re only six, Sister Compote.” Daifuku pointed out. “I’m with Oven. Animals tend to be quite large these parts of the New World, we need all the help we could get.”

Katakuri nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll search for a drinkable water source and gather some wood for cooking fire,” he said, looking around the group, and then reached out to grasp firmly onto Perospero’s shaking hand. “Don’t worry, Brother Peros. We are together, so we _will_ survive together.”

.

In the morning, Mondee and Effiler were put in charge of caring for the younger siblings, as the older Charlotte children split into teams. Amande and Hachee who were the more talented of the quadruplet girls in sword fighting, took up weaponry for the first time and followed their older brothers Daifuku and Oven into the forest.

Mondee tried very hard to mimic how Sister Compote and Brother Katakuri would care for the babies. Effiler had trouble with two-year-old Zuccotto during breakfast because he would spit out half the food put into his mouth since he was always a picky eater, and then he flipped the cereal bowl because Mondee slapped his wrist. To make matters worse, while Mondee and Effiler were distracted by the little boy's temper tantrum, the three-year-old triplet sisters Custard and Angel wandered into the forest to play and ended up missing. Opera was immediately tasked to search the nearby woods for them with his remaining quintuplet brothers Counter and Cadenza.

Mondee, as the second Charlotte daughter, felt like she was going to collapse under the sudden weight of responsibility. She discovered newfound respect for Sister Compote’s calm demure in face of all children-related emergency.

Meanwhile, three-year-old Cracker scraped his knee and for the whole day would not stop crying.

.

Opera managed to find Custard and Angel before Sister Compote returned with lots of fruit later in the afternoon, and Brother Katakuri soon brought back water, but Brother Daifuku and Brother Oven were unsuccessful in their hunt. Wild animals were swift and not easy to catch. To prolong the pending food problem, Sister Compote and Brother Katakuri decided on rationing for the older children.

There was the thing though. Charlotte children tended to put away more food per day than the average kids their age, just like their gluttonous Mama. Thus this was the first time Mondee ever experienced the sting of hunger.

She felt guilty about it later, because Sister Compote and Brother Katakuri opted to eat nothing that day except some honey and water.

.

Perospero continued to make his slow way through the large town until long past nightfall, patiently knocking on door to door. He was depressed and hungry for he was still unable to find a decent means of income. Before he knew it, Perospero found himself on the other side of the port.

“Hey,” someone called from across the alley, and that stopped Perospero on his tracks. It was a scantily clad beautiful woman in heavy makeup and extravagant hairdo, cigarette dangling from her slender fingers. “You lost, sweet boy?”

“I’m fine,” Perospero huffed, but his empty stomach decided just then to let out a growl. Perospero felt a heated blush going all the way down his neck.

The woman smirked. “Sounds like someone is hungry,” she observed, and then added almost knowingly, “You know? If you really needed a quick way to make money, you could just put that pretty tongue of yours to good use.”

Perospero furrowed his brows in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

The woman laughed, a hand waving absentmindedly as she walked away. “I’m just saying if you were ever desperate, you know where to find me. I could help you.”

Perospero was left pondering on the sidewalk alone, before making his way back to the cottage by the shore. He had only bad news for his family.

.

Katakuri went with his triplet brothers hunting group on the second day, and that afternoon they brought back a frog as tall as an average human adult. It was a blessing, but it was still not nearly enough to feed the large appetite of twenty Charlotte kids. So, like their older brothers and sister, Daifuku and Oven also stopped eating.

Twenty years ago, Charlotte Linlin once fasted for seven days before completely losing her mind. Now her children were in a similar situation, where her oldest born children had to abstain from food just so their younger siblings could survive.

.

On the third day, they split their hunting group into three teams to cover more grounds. Daifuku with Hachee, Oven with Amande, and Katakuri by himself. They managed to bring back a waist-high rabbit, a length of snake, and four eggs the size of their forearms.

It was still not enough.

.

On the fourth day, Brulee and Broye finished the last drop of their milk reserve. Everyone agreed that they could not let the babies starve, so Perospero and Katakuri brought the wild boar Oven and Amande hunted that morning into town to sell for some coins. They got enough milk for the baby twins for another week, steamed rice for Zuccotto, porridge for Angel and Custard, and some bread for Cracker and the quintuplet boys.

The quadruplet girls were forced to live on only meager portions of dry meat and fruits that day, while the oldest children continued to starve. Everyone was still hungry, and Cracker cried and cried.

.

On the fifth day, Amande and Hachee had to stay home due to being too weak from the lack of adequate sustenance to weather the physical strain of hunt. They took up the duty of caring for the younger kids, while Mondee and Effiler followed Sister Compote to search for more fruits. Their hunting party might have went from three down to one, but with more experience the triplet boys managed to bring back a squirrel and two large whitetail deer, with good news that they had located the trail of a herd.

In the meantime, Amande taught herself how to properly skin animals with slow precise cuts, and Brother Perospero brought the deer skins in relatively good condition to the town market to exchange for extra beli.

Food was still scarce, but things were finally looking up.

.

On the sixth day, misfortune struck.

Katakuri, Daifuku, and Oven ran into a pack of carriage-sized monster wolves on their first trip back from the hunt. Their quarry was stolen in the process and Oven was bitten as they made their narrow escape. They did not bring back any substantial amount of food that day. To make matters worse, Oven fell ill soon after due to infection setting in on his untreated wound.

“Are we all going to die?” Mondee asked her eldest brother quietly in the night. Perospero swallowed, his tongue feeling dry, but said nothing as he watched his little sister use towels to clean the sweat clinging to Oven’s forehead. His body temperature had gone up to a feverish degree, and the wound on his hand had started oozing foul smelling pus.

Katakuri and Daifuku refused to rest the whole night, staying up by their youngest blood brother’s side.

Everyone starved.

.

Charlotte Linlin destroyed a village on her seventh day of starvation. Charlotte Perospero did not, but he was equally desperate by then that he found himself back at the dimly lit alleyway on the other side of the port town.

“You’re back,” the woman from a week before quirked her freshly painted lips. Perospero though was not in the mood for any pleasantries.

“Tell me what I have to do to get money.”

The woman’s smile widened. “Of course,” she said, gesturing with her hand for Perospero to come closer. She took out a tube of lipstick from her purse. “But first, we need to get you pretty up for the client.”

Perospero hesitated one last time. He thought of the baby girls with no suitable food to fill their stomachs, Zuccotto’s miserable whine, the quadruplet girls and the quintuplet boys growing weaker day by day. He thought of Katakuri’s pale stony face and Daifuku’s shaking hands as they watched over Oven’s sick form shivering in bed.

There was still something he as the oldest could do, so Perospero took a deep breath before following the woman deeper into the alley. He would comply to the woman’s every demand if it meant he could uphold his familial responsibility.

At the young age of eight, Perospero learned that sometimes it was necessary to lie and keep secrets from his own family. But now he had the money to buy milk for the twin baby girls, oatmeal for Angel and Custard, biscuits for Zuccotto and Cracker, and proper medication for the youngest triplet boy. Their living conditions gradually got better, and Perospero would do _anything_ to keep his precious family fed and happy.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied underage prostitution. I don’t believe Perospero is considered an okama in canon, yet he wears lipsticks and nail polish, and has an overall rather feminine appearance. This is my take on the matter.
> 
> On a somewhat related side note, due to the sheer number of the Charlotte kids, I seriously doubted that it would be possible for every single one of them to be straight. So in my headcanon, Perospero is gay based on the hints given by his character design, Katakuri is asexual by nature of being intended as a mirror to Luffy, and Smoothie is lesbian because even in her limited portrayal she constantly went after women while ignoring the men. This fic would NOT focus on any romantic relationships though.


	3. Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started because of Daifuku, from a small petty crime. It ended with Katakuri irrevocably changed.

**Fruit**

~ 41 years ago ~  
Daifuku (age 7)

Here were some things people should know about the oldest Charlotte children.

Perospero might be a performer and entertainer at heart, but he would always try to fulfill his obligations when required. Compote was considerate and reasonable, preferring to keep her hands clean and everyone out of trouble. Katakuri, though born with the face of a rogue, was ultimately an optimistic perfectionist that at times took his role too seriously. Oven, on the other hand, was carefree and tended to follow his siblings’ instruction rather than making a decision for himself.

So in hindsight it was no surprise that of the five oldest children within their pirate family, Charlotte Daifuku would be the first to turn to crime.

He should probably start that particular tale from the beginning.

The twenty Charlotte children had been living on that spring island in the cottage by the shore for over a year now, and by then they had settled into some sort of daily routine.

Daifuku and Katakuri would wake before dawn to bring back fresh water from the stream, and they would watch the sunrise together in silence as they ate breakfast of fruits and leftover meat. Every morning for the past year without fail, they would gaze out into the shimmering ocean tides, held firmly onto belief as they waited for the pirate ship proudly flying a familiar flag. Yet still, their Mama did not return.

Their siblings would wake soon after, getting ready for a new day. Sister Compote would sell her homemade jam in the market, Brother Peros had found work at a confectionery store in town that sold sweets in the most exquisite designs, and Oven was hired as cheap labor at the bakery across the street.

That would leave Daifuku and Katakuri with the duty to gather food from the forest and all household chores. Usually meaning Daifuku would do the hunting accompanied by someone of the quadruplets or quintuplets, while Katakuri took care of the remaining kids. It was the perfect arrangement, because Daifuku was indifferent to children while Katakuri absolutely loved them. He especially relished in the play-training sessions with young Cracker, who had taken to swordplay like a fish to water, and at age four already keeping up with Amande and Hachee, the more talented sword fighters of the six-year-old girls.

In the afternoon at three o’clock sharp, the Charlotte siblings would all return from whatever job they had that day. The huge clock in the middle of town square perfectly served as a means for them to tell time. They would return to the cottage, and they would have a small party. A family tradition that everyone simultaneously agreed should continue once they finally got their life back on any semblance of track. It was also important for the twin baby girls’ sake, for Brulee and Broye didn’t get to grow up under the material comfort of Mama’s care. As responsible older siblings, they should at least provide them with this.

Though nothing as fancy as what they used to have back home on the ship of course.

Brother Peros would scavenge the subpar cakes and candies that would otherwise go to waste from the store. Oven would bring back leftover dough from the bakery. They made tea from whatever herbs or flowers they could find, and they enjoyed themselves for half an hour. They had fun.

Anyway, that particular day started like any other. Daifuku brought Effiler and Cabaletta to hunt in the morning, bringing back two monster wolves and a humongous crocodile. Amande had already finished skinning the quarries from the previous day, so after a late lunch Daifuku tied the animal pelts to his halberd and went into town to sell to their usual buyer. What changed was him bumping into a couple suspicious older teens on the way there.

Those teens loomed over Daifuku standing at almost three meters tall, blocking his path. They belonged to a group of local gang and were not keen on letting a small kid with valuables freely passing through. They thought they had an easy prey.

They did not know that Daifuku had been wrestling with animals the size of small houses with his siblings daily for the past year. He was no pushover in any sense, despite his much shorter stature.

It wasn’t until Daifuku had one of them pinned down and two others backing away, that he remembered he was the child of an assertive pirate mother.

“W-we’re sorry,” the teen under him whimpered. “P-p-please let us go.”

Daifuku smirked in triumph. “Empty your pockets, now. I won’t say it twice.”

They obeyed. It was glorious.

.

For that day’s merienda, Daifuku brought strawberry red velvet cheesecakes for everybody and a chocolate glazed donut for Katakuri. It was _his_ money so he could do whatever he wanted with it, and seeing his usually stoic brother burst into tears over a simple pastry was so worth it. The poor guy hadn’t has his fix for over a year.

They all had a great afternoon snack.

That was, until Brother Perospero decided to become needlessly anxious. “Where did you get the money to buy these, little brother?”

Daifuku shrugged, rather unconcerned. “I mugged some dudes,” he answered in nonchalant honesty. “We’re supposed to be pirates, Brother Peros. I do whatever I want.”

Perospero blinked, then suddenly laughed. “Of course you do, perorin~” he agreed wholeheartedly. “Of course you do.”

Hachee and Effiler looked at each other, before turning as one to their older brother. “You are so cool, Brother Daifuku!” they exclaimed, admiration evident in their eyes.

Thus began a new routine for Charlotte Daifuku. He would still hunt and do his family duty, but whenever he found an excuse to visit the town? Daifuku would threaten random pedestrians with his faved halberd, sometimes bringing Hachee or Effiler with him, and they would get some extra cash. Mugging was a more efficient way to make needed additional money than any respectable job.

Then one day as if guided by the hand of fate, Daifuku ambushed the wrong person on the backstreets. It was some guy with a notable snake tattoo on the forearm and Daifuku received from him a warning. “Do you have any idea who I work for, brat? The smuggler ‘Arson’ Serpentine, you hear me!”

The wounded man’s threat was ultimately disregarded however, and he was abandoned coughing blood on the sidewalk, because why would a kid like Daifuku know any better? At the time Daifuku only felt great about himself. As he returned to the cottage that day, he was newly in possession of a priceless fruit with twisty ominous swirls.

A devil fruit.

.

Opera (age 5)

Here were some facts about the five-year-old Charlotte quintuplets.

Charlotte Linlin usually chose her husbands well. Influential princes and kings, powerful men, talented chefs. The quintuplets however were a rare exception, they were a drunken accident.

When the boys were born, they were already bigger than the average human child. As a result, their older brothers and sisters never held them as babies. When the twenty Charlotte children were put on that spring island, the quintuplets were physically the largest by far, larger than even the older set of fraternal triplets, as they had yet to hit the growth spurt that would make them half-giant monsters in future adulthood.

At this point in time, the quintuplet boys were the largest. They took up too much space, too much food, and they had no affinity towards stylized combat nor weaponry. Their older brothers and sisters never complained, but Opera knew they were often more trouble than they were worth. The thought always on the back of Opera’s mind, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t matter. Ahhh... what he wouldn’t give to be just a little more useful. To his family, to himself.

Then one day, Brother Daifuku brought back a magenta red devil fruit.

The Charlotte children were at lost over what to do. A devil fruit could fetch a hefty price on the black market, it would solve all their monetary problems, but at the moment they had no means to sell it. Keeping it for any length of time could attract unwanted attention, but throwing it away would be a waste. Nobody could come up with a solution.

As the older siblings quarreled, Opera’s thoughts couldn’t help but wandered to the homies Zeus and Prometheus, always by Mama’s side like a pair of invincible bodyguards. He truly wanted to be like that, so in an act of pure selfishness, Opera went behind his family’s back and ate the devil fruit when no one was there to notice.

It tasted like nightmare. Opera gagged, accidentally causing a ruckus in the food cupboard.

The storage door creaked open due to the sudden disturbance deep in the night, and Brother Perospero showed up with a knife in hand. “Opera? Why are you up so late, little brother?” Perospero asked in concern. He put away the weapon now that he was sure there was no intruder. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry-fa!” Opera exclaimed, holding up his hands in shame. In his state of emotional turmoil, creamy white substance gushed from his fingertips like fountain. The devil fruit turned out to be the Kuri-Kuri Fruit. Opera had become a Cream Human, gaining the ability to create and manipulate infinite cream.

Perospero noticed the half-eaten fruit by his feet right away. Opera expected to be severely punished for his subterfuge, but then Perospero continued to surprise his younger sibling by promptly crouching down to dip a spindly finger into the liquidity substance on the floor and had a taste. Instead of being angry, Perospero was delighted. Opera was only lightly scolded for his self-serving misdemeanor, and the very next day he was taken to the confectionery store his eldest brother worked at. Together they made a small fortune with his newfound ability to produce unlimited amount of any types of cream.

Creme fraiche, creme fleurette, clotted cream, sour cream, double, heavy, half-and-half, and the whipping cream.

Opera learned so much of both desserts and his abilities under Brother Perospero’s diligent teaching. Custard and Angel adored him for the sweets he could create from nothing, and his quintuplet brothers were as enchanted as they were jealous. It was the best time of his life.

.

Things didn’t stay that way for long unfortunately, and it all snowballed from a seemingly inconsequential incident. A beefy man visited the candy store on a midday when Opera was painstakingly at work with his eldest brother, trying to will the pie cream into the perfect shape. The man was armed with brass knuckles and had a twisting snake tattooed across his bare chest.

Perospero was immediately on guard. He gestured for Opera to hide behind the counter. “Perorin~ Sir, how may I help you?” Perospero plastered on a polite smile.

“Get lost, rent boy. We wouldn’t want to damage that pretty face of yours, now,” the hostile man snarled. “My boss ‘Arson’ Serpentine got a bone to pick with that fat kid behind you. Brat lost us a lot of money.”

The friendly smile Perospero put on turned into a scowl. He knew from unfortunate personal circumstance that at nine years old, he was ridiculously pretty for a boy. His figure slender with meticulously trimmed shoulder-length blue hair, polished manicured nails and a delicate touch of lipstick to accentuate his facial features. Here was the catch though. Perospero might be feminine and pretty, but he was not weak, and he certainly disliked being call degrading names almost as much as he disliked hearing his little brother getting threatened.

There was a rainbow lollipop the size of a child by the counter as part of the store’s edible decorations. It was solid and heavy and the closest thing at hand to serve as a weapon, so Perospero grabbed it and slammed it into the man’s right kneecap. The hard candy cracked, accompanied by the sound of shattering bones and a grown man’s howl of pain.

“Don’t you dare bother my little brother ever again,” Perospero hissed at the injured man. He quickly ushered Opera away, they were going to be late for their family snack.

.

Everything went to hell that very night.

There was no sign, no warning. One moment there was silence, but by the next, the cottage the twenty Charlotte children were soundly sleeping in suddenly burst into flames.

They all woke in a state of terrified frenzy, surrounded by the scorching heat of ruthless fire. Opera was closest to the door, but as he twisted the handle he found that the escape route had been sealed shut from the outside by unknowable foes. The older triplets then had to waste precious minutes searching for weapons in the suffocating smoke, for fear of bringing the whole building down if they attempted to smash through sturdy wood with brute strength and fists.

“Stay back, Opera!” Katakuri coughed, leveling his trident and slashed open a wide exit on the nearest wall. “Brother Peros, get Brulee and Broye! Everyone GET OUT! Cracker, Custard follow me.”

“Hold my hand, Zuccotto. Girls, this way!” Sister Compote called out, leading the three-year-old boy with her as she hastily pushed the quadruplets before her out the house. “Hurry!”

When they finally made it out of the blazing fire, they found three men standing tall out in the open clearing in front of the cottage. One Daifuku recognized as the guy he mugged some days ago, another Opera knew as the aggressive customer from the shop, so the last they could hazard a guess. The smuggler ‘Arson’ Serpentine, who had his raised fists heated up to coal-red and flames dancing in his eyes. _A devil fruit user._

That was why the cottage caught fire so insanely fast. But they would have to deal with the pending threat later, because right now the older Charlotte siblings had to first make sure everyone was safe and accounted for.

“... Counter, Cadenza, Cabaletta, Gala,” Katakuri was quickly doing the headcount. “Cracker, Custard, Angel... Angel? WHERE’S ANGEL?” Katakuri screamed when he realized that he couldn’t find the youngest of the fraternal triplets. He threw down the trident and was already running back into the burning house.

“Katakuri!” Oven shouted after his brother, racing back also into the blazing flames.

Half of the roof was starting to cave in. Opera could only stare petrified in numbed panic. His brothers and sisters were going to die and there was nothing he could do. Why was he so completely _useless_ even in a time like this?

.

Angel could not find her way out of the cottage, because heavy smoke obscured her sight. Blisters were forming on her forearms and she could not breathe, with tears running down her cheeks. She wanted to shriek for her brothers and sisters but smog clogged her lungs. A wooden beam splintered overhead and broke before it fell.

She was going to die.

It didn’t happen. Brother Katakuri and Brother Oven were beside her now, holding up and pushing away the heavy beam with their bare hands, all the while biting back pained groans as fire burned their palms. They helped her up, but the exit was still too far away.

The house was going to come apart.

But then something soft and sweet enveloped the three of them.

.

For the first time Opera was grateful for his physical size. Because in that deciding final moment, he was big enough he could hold up the ceiling by expanding one hand into a creamy dome and easily reach his brothers and sister with a superficially extended arm. With the last of his strength, he threw them out away from imminent danger.

The last thing Opera saw was his family, safe, before the burning building he was holding up collapsed on top of him.

.

Katakuri (age 7), Daifuku (age 7), Opera (age 5)

Katakuri never felt so furious in his life.

The crumpled cottage continued to burn. Cabaletta and Gala had ran off with the quadruplet girls to get water to put out the flame. Counter and Cadenza meanwhile tried to pry away pieces of burning wood with their bare hands, a desperate attempt to save their trapped brother. Oven was there, to pull the two quintuplets from harm before slicing through fallen beams with his singed naginata blade. Sister Compote and Brother Peros held onto the twin girls in the chaos, a futile attempt to soothe their fear, with Zuccotto trembling in distraught behind them. Cracker and Custard were clutching tightly onto Angel, who was covered in cream, hurt and wheezing. They were badly shaken by the near loss of their closest kin.

Daifuku was talking.

But Katakuri could only hear the drawn-out screech of white noise. His family was in disarray and traumatized, and those bastard adults that set the fire were laughing at their despair. _How dare they!_

Katakuri didn’t remember reaching for the fallen trident, his body on autopilot. Then he leaped through the air and chopped someone’s head off.

.

It might be to nobody’s surprise that Charlotte Daifuku would be the first Charlotte child to commit a crime. It was both shocking and frightening to everyone involved however, that it would be Charlotte Katakuri who ended up the first to kill.

Katakuri might have been born with a horrific torn mouth and enough inhuman strength to crack concrete before he could run, but deep down he was genuinely kind and patient and—in Daifuku’s honest opinion—too good for this shit world.

That was his usually gentle brother, who in that moment moved like lightning and advanced like a thunderstorm, who refused to back down even when the culprit swung punches at him with devil fruit powered heat fists. It reminded Daifuku of seeing Mama’s outdated WANTED posters in head-chef Streusen’s cabin long ago back on the ship, collected like a dusty photo album. The chef had told him the oldest one had had its picture taken when Mama was only seven years old.

Quiet reserved Katakuri, in that single instance looked like a vengeful demon from hell, with blood splattered on his cheek and crimson eyes gleaming in the firelight. Quiet reserved Katakuri, who might have taken after their boisterous Mama the most after all.

When all was said and done, there were three mutilated adult corpses on the ground and nobody dared to move. Except Daifuku, who went and carefully wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him close. “It’s alright,” he whispered, like a mantra, as he tightened his embrace. “It’s alright, Katakuri. It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

It all started because of him, all those weeks ago, from a small petty crime. It ended with Katakuri here, irrevocably changed.

.

When Opera was finally rescued from the wreckage of the house fire, over ninety percent of his body was covered in third-degree and fourth-degree burns. He was unconscious by the time his identical younger brothers rushed him to the town hospital, and soon went into hypovolemic shock on the verge of death. Opera went through multiple operations that week. It was a miracle he survived.

It took another week for his condition to stabilize enough to wake him from his drug-induced coma. When he did, his brothers and sisters were by his side.

It was not all smiles however, because the doctor told the Charlotte children then that their brother Opera no longer had enough healthy skin covering his body to protect himself from the elements, meaning that from then on Opera could only live in a controlled disinfected environment. No freedom, trapped in a body made of ugly raw flesh, bandaged from head to toe. It sounded to everyone like a prolonged death sentence.

Opera stared at his hands, disfigured and ruined also. Like his legs, like his body, like his face. His options limited, but wasn’t devil fruits supposed to have limitless potentials? Opera was a Cream Human, he could make a variety of desserts from nothing but his wildest imagination.

So he thought, I am going to recreate my own flesh and skin. I am going to help myself survive under the sun.

And Opera did.

.

Later, as the children scavenged whatever food in storage from the burned down husk of the cottage they refused to call their home, they found another devil fruit. It laid innocent in the midst of charred fruits and vegetables, as if it hadn’t just randomly sprung into existence like an incessant curse.

As for Katakuri? After that upsetting ordeal, he began to only sleep sitting upright and vigilant, the long trident never leaving his hand. He trained and trained until the smallest abnormality in the night would rouse him into wakefulness, his awareness of surroundings becoming so keen that he would always be on alert as his family had their rest. Eventually, it became a habit.

Eventually, the younger of his siblings started to forget that once upon a time, Katakuri would too rest on his back just like everybody else, but that was another story.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t mess with Katakuri’s family!
> 
> This chapter was inspired by Opera’s character design, his ability to burn with cream (lol whot?), and the anime-only scene in episode 843 where he willingly sacrificed himself after reminded of his responsibility. Opera might be self-serving most of the time, but he would still put himself on the line for family.
> 
> OC had the Netsu-Netsu Fruit, aka Oven’s devil fruit in the future. I found it poetic for the Heat Fruit to re-spawn surrounded by fire, and preserve itself through superpower alone.


	4. Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is because of my mouth. It’s hideous.”

**Fish**

~ 38 years ago ~  
Brulee (age 5), Katakuri (age 10)

After the old cottage was burned to the ground, the Charlotte siblings moved into the port town. There was difficulty in finding a suitable location spacious enough to house all twenty of them however, so certain compromises had to be made, sharing two three-sleeper bunkbeds and a hammock and a single soft mattress between them all.

The quintuplet brothers of course get the bottom bunks due to their size, with one of them taking turns sleeping on the floor. Daifuku, Oven, and Cracker got the middle bunk on the left, while the eldest fraternal twins Brother Perospero and Sister Compote had the one on the right. The twins Brulee and Broye got to have the mattress to themselves and without having to take turns, because that was the privilege as the youngest of the bunch. Thus leaving the remaining girls to share the top bunks between the six of them, and Zuccotto got the hammock hanging between the bunkbed metal poles.

At her young age, Brulee was quite convinced Brother Katakuri never slept.

Being the little sisters to eighteen older siblings, Brulee and Broye lived a relatively sheltered life. They were treated by their family like pampered princesses from a fairytale, growing up surrounded by love and care. They had never starved, nor could they recall a time when survival was a luxury. To them, the incident that severely traumatized their older siblings was merely a forgotten nightmare from long age, when they were too small to remember. The cottage by the shore a distant fading memory and sailing under a pirate flag a make-believe fantasy.

Life in town was easy for Brulee and her twin. They had many friends around the neighborhood, got free pastries from Brother Oven at the bakery and hand-crafted sweets from Brother Perospero and Brother Opera at the candy store, and received flowing new dresses on their shared birthday rather than the tattered hand-me-down clothings that most of their siblings wore.

Life was easy and happy, but as Brulee grew older she was starting to realize nothing was as simple as first seemed.

Brulee was five years old when she came home one day, and from the ajar doorway saw Sister Compote helping to clean sticky egg yolk from Brother Katakuri’s spiky burgundy hair in front of the sink. Brulee quickly hide her small body behind the wooden frame.

“Again?” Compote asked, troubled.

“It was nothing,” Katakuri murmured. “I saw it coming. Could’ve avoid it if I really wanted to anyway.”

“And...?”

“Cracker was standing beside me, he’d have been hit if I had moved.”

“Ah,” Compote sighed. “People could be so cruel.”

“That’s nothing new,” Katakuri shrugged. He lowered his head and bared his fangs at the water pooling into the sink basin, gazing at his own reflection through the ripples. “It is because of my mouth. It’s hideous.”

Compote flicked her younger brother on the forehead. “If you were that bothered, you could always try covering it up. Use a scarf or something.”

“Funny. Brother Peros told me the same thing,” Katakuri took a towel from the rack to dry his hair. “Said I would be able to make friends easier.”

“Did he, now.”

“... It doesn’t bother me,” Katakuri said. He put down the towel and looked at his older sister in earnest. “I have you, and I have everyone in our family. That’s good enough for me.”

Compote chuckled. “Aren’t you a sweet talker.”

A soft creak sounded from the doorway leading to the commune hall. Katakuri abruptly turned, and saw his second youngest sister lurking by the door. Katakuri immediately put on a bright smile. “Hey, Brulee. You’re back early,” he gestured at the young girl by the door. “How was your day?”

Brulee didn’t answer. Instead she ran over and wrapped her tiny arms around her older brother’s waist, burying her nose into his stomach to take in the unique scent of sweet flour. Katakuri gently petted her head. “Is something wrong?”

Brulee just shook her head, only then did she began to understand. The nice townspeople never liked Brother Katakuri very much, not since they moved here.

.

Brulee followed the triplets Cracker and Custard into the forest the next day, as their daily task was to bring back firewood for the cold winter night. Once they finished their coda for the day, they would play. Cracker swinging out his broadsword and Custard unsheathed her rapier. It was an ongoing game between them.

Brulee held her clothes up carefully as she watched her older siblings’ sparring match, so as to not get mud on her dress. She usually enjoyed these moments, despite being averse to weaponry herself. Cracker and Custard both preferred single-handed swords longer than typically suitable for their size, and whenever they crossed blades they made it look like a duet dance.

When Cracker eventually won—because he always did—he would confiscate an item of his choosing from Custard’s packed lunch and have it for himself. To make this somewhat partial challenge a more even trade, Cracker let Custard do whatever she wanted with his hair. That was also an ongoing agreement between these two triplets. It was because Custard’s hair was naturally rough and curly it always tangled whenever she tried to grow them out, while Cracker had the silkiest strands so perfect for styling it should have no business belonging on a boy’s head.

The result was seven-year-old Cracker having his hair long like a girl’s and tied into the style of firecrackers, because his triplet little sisters Custard and Angel both found the pun hilarious.

“Ouch! Custard, don’t pull on my hair so hard,” Cracker complained, taking a bite of a caramel pretzel. Custard stuck out her tongue, “Eat your food, and stay still!”

Cracker pouted. He then turned to the younger of his sisters. “So, what brings you here today, Brulee?”

Brulee pondered on where to begin. “I saw Brother Katakuri cleaning eggs out of his hair yesterday, do you know what happened?”

Cracker and Custard shared a look, expression unhappy. “I don’t know what to tell you, little sis,” Cracker said. “A lot of stupid folks attack Brother Katakuri for stupid reasons. It’s been like that for years. They don’t stop.”

“It’s because they think Brother Katakuri is a fishman, with the teeth,” Custard muttered. “And that comes with certain unfavorable reputation.”

“But that’s nonsense!” Brulee exclaimed, outraged. “He doesn’t have gills or fins!”

“Yeah, well. It’s not like we can do anything about it though,” Cracker said, crossing his arms. “I mean, I could beat people up, but Brother Kata could do that himself if he truly wanted to. Besides, you know how he is. I seriously doubt he would want us getting involved.”

“It just feels so unfair,” Brulee grumbled. She wondered if there were anything she could do, to make things slightly better for her favorite older brother.

.

Katakuri was carrying a ton of sweet flour over his shoulders on his way to the bakery Oven worked at when he promptly stopped, taking a single step back. A jagged stone flew past his face, missing him entirely.

A group of people were gathered a short distance away, practically waiting to ambush him. Katakuri could feel a headache throbbing, knowing full well what was about to come.

“Go back to the gutters where you belong, pelican eel freak!” Someone hollered. “Get lost!”

“Disgusting fish!”

“Pathetic low-life scum!”

”Abnormal fuck!”

”Freak!”

Katakuri sighed. Those prejudiced pigs had only gotten smarter and more persistent over the years. They knew of his strength, so he was only approached like this nowadays, when he was working and with his hands occupied. He had to then decide whether it was truly worth it to temporary set aside his job, or to bear it all in silence and ignore them completely. It was a no-win situation either way.

“Hey! Leave my big brother alone!”

Katakuri blinked, surprised to hear that familiar voice. Brulee showed up, running around the street corner to stand by his side. Katakuri felt somewhat embarrassed. He had tried hard to keep the more disappointing part of his life away from his youngest sisters.

“You don’t have to do this, Brulee,” Katakuri told the little girl, though inwardly he was grateful for the support.

“It’s fine,” Brulee grinned up at him. “This way they’ll know you couldn’t possibly be a fishman, right?” It might be a naive notion yet true to her words, the name-calling had stopped, turning into uncertain whispers. Brulee knew she was well-loved around the town, so she would use her popularity to make her brother’s life a little bit easier.

“... Thank you,” Katakuri said. With much difficulty, Katakuri shifted his hefty cargo until he could support the whole thing over his shoulders with only one arm needed to maintain balance, just so he could free up a hand. This was the length he would go to for family, even if it was something so simple.

Happily, Brulee reached for the hand Katakuri offered. They walked down the street hand-in-hand that day, and every day after.

.

Amande (age 9), Oven (age 10)

Despite its outward appearance, the spring island town was not a peaceful place. It was used as a smuggling operation base, with a network of community gangs, serving both as nuisance to the townspeople and a necessary evil to deter the attention of marauding pirate crews. Ever since the unexplained disappearance of the local leader Serpentine three years ago however, the island’s defense had greatly plummeted. It was thus unsurprising that eventually a group of pirates would show up, with enough firepower capable of overwhelming the village forces.

Amande was working in the tavern when those pirates arrived, throwing open the swinging double doors. Next thing she knew, a thug with bad breath was in her face and pulling on her hair. Plates slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor.

“Look, captain! There’s a snakeneck girl over here, they could get pretty pricy on the market, non?”

At the time, Amande was too young. She could not yet comprehend the true horror behind human trafficking. “Let go of me!” She screamed, struggling in vain.

“How ’bout you come with us, girly? Non?” The large man mocked. Amande noticed the verbal tic and she hated it.

“Stop teasing her, Pollock. Just get her back to the ship,” someone else called. “We still need to get our booze, and shut her up!” A dirty rag was shoved into Amande’s mouth causing her to gag, then she was duct taped and thrown into a bodybag.

Nobody in the tavern intervened, because why should anyone risk their life for a weird orphan girl?

.

When Amande next woke up, there were heavy metal chains around her neck and wrists. She was still gagged, with a burlap sack over her head, and she was curled up in a tiny steel cage. There was a familiar rocking sensation that tickled the edge of her memory, Amande was on a ship.

Footsteps sounded around her, a clink of glass on wood. “This is our lucky day, non? Folks saying there are more of them freak kids around town.”

“And a fish boy, too.”

“Easier to catch young and on land, non?”

Amande banged her fists against the bars. A futile attempt she knew, but they were talking about her sisters. Her family.

That only resulted in a boot kicking the cage. “Shut the fuck up, stupid bitch!”

.

Amande didn’t know how long she was held there in the darkness. She was sore and tired and getting hungry.

Thundering footsteps echoing overhead, people running on deck. A door slamming open. “What happened to you guys, non? You look like you’ve been run over by a marine squad!”

“Fish boy got some fight.”

“He’s a kid, non?”

Some grumbling.

“Inform the captain, non? We should teach that foolish punk a lesson.”

“There is this little girl. People saying they always show up together around the bakery. Would that work?”

“It’ll work great.”

.

“We got the girl, Pollock.”

“Let me go! Let me go, stupid—!”

Amande sat up, her blood running cold. _Oh god, no. Brulee._

“Brother Katakuri is going to kill you I swear! Let go! Let go of me!”

“Hold her down, non?” Pollock singsonged, letting out a sinister chuckle. “I’m gonna do it at the most painful and agonizing speed possible, or else there would be no meaning in cutting her to begin with, non? Gotta teach the ugly fish boy a lesson.”

Amande threw her frail body against the cage, terrified out of her mind. It didn’t even budge.

When the knife started digging into her little sister’s face, Brulee screamed and screamed and screamed. It went on for an eternity, and Amande could only sob silently, helpless and going insane. Brulee would never know her older sister was there, listening to her every desperate cry.

.

People were yelling outside.

Some time had passed.

Amande didn’t care.

.

Doors opening and closing, soft steps.

“... Amande?”

Amande stirred from her apathetic self-loathing. It was a voice she recognized. She squirmed, whined feebly, trying to bite through the cloth in her mouth.

“Oh god, Amande! What happened to you?” Oven hurried over, his hands reaching through the gaps between the bars to pull off the burlap sack and relief his sister of her gag. “You’ve been missing for two days, we were so worried.”

Amande coughed, her throat too dry. “—No, you,” she wheezed. “Br-rulee.”

Oven pulled at the steel bars, it didn’t yield even to his superior strength. “I’m going to get you out!”

Amande shook her head, the iron manacles on her wrists and neck clanked. “Brother Oven, forget about me,” she pleaded, swallowing between words. “You have to... find Brulee, she was here and... hurt and they took her away... and—“

“I can’t break this—“

“You don’t... understand! ... Brulee! BRULEE WAS HERE! BRULEE WAS HURT!”

“Calm down, Amande. You need to calm down and listen to me, okay? We’ve already found Brulee, we found her. She was...” Oven hesitated, “Katakuri was not happy.”

That was an understatement.

“We need to get you out of here first,” Oven said, changing the topic. “I can’t break the cage, but I have an idea. Wait here, I’ll be back real soon. Is that okay, little sister?”

Very slowly, Amande nodded. She was afraid to be left alone again, with nothing but darkness and despair gripping her heart, but she had to be strong.

Oven left, running off as quickly as his legs could carry him.

.

It didn’t take long for the fourth Charlotte son to return, now with a repulsive taste lingering on his tongue.

“You should stay back a bit, Amande,” Oven told his little sister. He grasped the steel cage again but this time instead of attempting to pull, he closed his eyes and imagined the crackling of a flame. His hands began to glow. Metal bars melting under the heat of the touch, Oven pulled, breaking the cage open.

Amande widened her eyes.

“It’s okay,” Oven whispered. He knew this heat, this power, would be associated with bad memories. “I am going to break those shackles now, is that okay?” Oven held out a hand, motioning at Amande’s bound wrists.

Cautiously Amande complied, lowering the chains into her brother’s outstretched palms. Oven concentrated, and melted those as well, but the conducted heat caused Amande to jerk back almost instantly. She winced.

“I’m sorry!” Oven immediately apologized. He looked at the length of chains broken and hanging loose from the cuffs and collar still on his sister, he frowned. “We should go find Brother Peros. He’ll know what to—“

BANG! The cabin door leading to the upper deck was unceremoniously thrown open, bouncing off the wall. Oven jumped. A tall shadow loomed from the doorway, with a lethal scimitar drawn and a face that Amande would never forget. “More foolish brats meddling in adult business, non?” The man snarled, “Ya’ll should know better!”

The blade came down.

Oven pushed Amande away, but he wasn’t quick enough to evade the attack himself when wind sliced through the air. He wasn’t fast like Katakuri, he wasn’t strong enough to protect his family. Oven fell, face first on the ground, twisting in agony. He pressed hard on the wound that cut a deep gash across his back shoulders and down a scapula, but that did nothing to quench the heavy spray of blood. Vision dimmed, his life pouring out of his body onto the floorboards. Ludicrously, Oven thought of spilled milk. He ground his teeth, refused to die.

Pollock was the first mate of a New World pirate crew. Even an exceptionally durable child like Oven would go down from one of his direct aerial slashes. He kicked the boy to the side and stalked after the longneck girl. There was a mad glint in his eyes. “You brought this onto us, non? So many of our men, dead,” he accused, slowly raising the scimitar again. “It all started because of you! Your fault, bitch!”

“N-no,” Amande trembled. She stumbled backward until her back hit the leg of a desk. She looked up and saw the handle of a knife, the same knife that destroyed Brulee’s face.

“YOU! You lead that monster boy to us!” Pollock screamed. He swung his weapon.

But this time, the deadly gust of compressed air did not come. The blade sank into the palms of a child mid-swing and was stopped.

It was Oven, standing protectively over Amande just as she grabbed for the knife on the table, still caked in their little sister’s dried blood. Oven had cauterized his bleeding wound close painfully with devil fruit power, then proceeded to sacrifice both hands to prevent the scimitar blade from further causing his family harm. He focused, heating up his entire body. The man yelped, dropping the weapon.

“You little shit—“ Pollock cursed, but that was when Amande stabbed the knife into his left heel, slicing cleanly through his achilles tendon. The man howled in pain, before collapsing on the ground. Amande stabbed his right heel next, depriving him the ability to stand. Pollock then tried to swipe at the kids with his burly arms, but Oven grabbed at his wrist and elbow, torching his forearm. The vile muscled man was thoroughly subdued soon after, weak on his back and heaving.

Oven stood, knees wobbling and ache all over. “We should go now, Amande,” Oven said, panting. He pressed his palms together to close the cuts there with another calculated burst of heat. It still hurt a lot, but Oven was getting better at this already. “Before more pirates come back.”

Amande didn’t move. She just stared at the man lying and breathing on the floor, and she absolutely _hated_ him.

“Amande?”

“Hold him down,” Amande whispered, that damned knife still clutched in a death grip.

Oven was confused. “What?”

“Hold him down, Brother Oven,” Amande repeated, voice steady, and then purposefully echoed the words she heard from this very man not so long yet a lifetime ago. “I’m going to do it at the most painful and agonizing speed possible, or else there would be no meaning in _killing_ him to begin with.”

The man grew impossibly pale.

Charlotte Amande just thought of all the times she skinned animals, of how she would patiently flay off flesh and meat little by little. So perhaps it wasn’t that surprising she would be the first in their family to want to try torture.

Oven watched his little sister, in a whole new light as if he could not quite recognize her. Then wordlessly he closed his hands over the man’s wrists, ignoring the resounding pitiful cries for mercy. Charlotte Oven observed the precise knife work, eyes never moving away. He did not intervene as screaming turned into background noise, knowing completely that he was the accomplice who allowed this to happen, knowing completely that he was the only one amongst the eldest siblings who would allow this to happen. The madness that was a little girl torturing an adult, the madness that the little girl was his own younger sister.

Messed up as it might be from another perspective, Amande was grateful for the company.

.

Katakuri found them two hours later, deep into the night. They shared one look with each other and came to a silent agreement.

They didn’t talk about the chains hanging from Amande’s neck, nor the blood soaking through her pale dress. They didn’t talk about the burned abrasions nor the unnatural heat coming from Oven’s fingertips. They certainly didn’t talk about the scarf covering Katakuri’s serrated face and the wet lines dripping down the front of his chest, like pink tattoos cutting through his beating heart.

When they left the pirate ship behind them, there were three trails of child-sized bloody footprints leading away.

.

.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katakuri and Amande’s tattoos are cool, guess where they got the inspirations :)
> 
> Katakuri being regarded to as a fishman was a reference to the One Piece fandom. When his teeth was first revealed, many people thought he was part-fishman. Also minor detail in chapter 902, Katakuri originally assumed Brulee did not know about him lying down, meaning Katakuri first began putting on a superhuman persona _before_ Brulee’s face got cut, thus this fic reflect as such. To summarize: Katakuri sewed his mouth for Cracker, stopped lying down for Angel and Opera, and finally donned the scarf for Brulee.
> 
> Amande and Oven were chosen deliberately for the topic on torture. Because throughout WCI arc, only three people were shown to torture for the sake of torture: Amande, Perospero, and Oven. Perospero would be sensible enough to know children shouldn’t do it though.
> 
> .
> 
> **About the OCs**
> 
> Serpentine was named after the snake, and a reference to Luffy’s G4 Snake-man. Snake being the symbolic animal that marked both the beginning and the ending for Katakuri’s lifelong psychological trauma.
> 
> Pollock was named after a type of white fish, reference to Amande’s future blade Shirauo, to represent the event she would never let go as it completely reshaped her future personality.


	5. Corn on the Cob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out at sea.

**Corn on the Cob**

~ 42 to 38 years ago ~  
Nusstorte (age 3 to age 4)

Charlotte Nusstorte was born with his fraternal brothers on a ship significantly larger than any average pirate could afford, with a luxurious built-in nursery. Their Mama was no longer the captain of her own crew at that time, for she had joined to sail under the ROCKS Pirates banner, the most widely feared pirate crew in the five oceans across the world.

He had a comfortable early life, always with personal servants at beck and call. Being the twelfth Charlotte son was an abstract concept and for the longest time, he genuinely thought he and his fraternal brothers were the eldest children within the family, with six younger siblings after the twin boys Compo and Laurin were born.

Alas, good fortune never lasted forever.

Marine troops relentlessly hunted their Mama’s crew, sending out dozens of navy warships after them every day. Nusstorte grew up familiar with the sounds of cannon fire ringing in his ears. Eventually, a ‘Hero’ carrying the elusive will of D emerged to end the ceaseless battle. The ROCKS captain was slain, and his crew scattered taking with them whatever treasures they could salvage.

Charlotte Linlin’s pirate crew went from powerful down to a pitiful four, with only loyal Streusen by her side and the homies Zeus and Prometheus from her soul. Not counting the ten essentially worthless children under her care, nor the ones still resting heavy in her womb. She still needed a navigator and a helmsman at the bare minimum to traverse the treacherous New World sea.

Not many of his siblings knew this, but Nusstorte originally belonged within a set of quadruplets. However at age three, he watched in unadulterated horror as his Mama killed his youngest blood brother, who had a long lifespan within him still. Mama’s new ship came to life, with its sails as the desired navigator and its steering wheel the best helmsman. After that day Nusstorte’s quadruplet brothers turned into a set of triplets.

Nusstorte was the first Charlotte child to learn to fear his own mother.

It was a lesson he learned well. Nusstorte understood right then that it would be his responsibility to instruct two-year-old Noisette to hide when Mama got angry, to change the subject when Basskarte and Dosmarche inevitably asked where their littlest brother had gone, and to quickly take the baby Mont-d’Or away when he was born.

It was a lesson he would, in turn, teach his older siblings when eventually the whole family reunited once more.

To always remember the injustice his poor blood brother suffered, Nusstorte spent six months learning to hand sew a large hat, cloth mindfully chosen, stitch by careful stitch. Then on their shared fourth birthday, he tentatively asked their Mama for a tiny piece of his brother’s stolen soul. Nusstorte carried his brother with him on that handcrafted indigo bicorne since that day, always, so they could still share with each other the joy of growing up.

That was the sentimentality of life, for a child lost too young.

.

The first time Nusstorte saw his older brothers and sister, it was on the WANTED posters. His eldest brother was rather pretty with a prominent tongue embellished by brightly painted lips, his second eldest brother looking mysterious with a heavy winter scarf covering the majority of his face, and his third eldest sister appearing aloof and dangerous with chains around her long neck.

Charlotte Perospero at age twelve with a bounty of thirty-five million, Charlotte Katakuri at age ten with a bounty of thirty-seven million, and Charlotte Amande at age nine with a bounty of sixteen million. The newspaper described an odd incident with questionable authenticity that a group of New World pirates were seemingly taken down by children in one single night. A captain worth over eighty million killed and his fifty million second-in-command tortured to death, with almost a hundred men slaughtered and an entire town burned.

Mama saw the news article and laughed in delightful glee, before ordering her ship to change course. She had just found her _perfect_ crew.

.

~ 37 years ago ~  
Perospero (age 13)

After almost five long years of waiting, their Mama finally returned, welcoming her children with open arms back into the safety of her care. Half of them fairly competent fighters now, with many already stained by blood on their hands.

Mama let them knew in simple terms what she truly desired was a capable crew, so that was what they would become to stay in her favor. Katakuri, Daifuku, and Oven took up arms as boy spearmen—trident, halberd, and naginata blade. Mondee, Amande, Hachee, Cracker, and Custard took up swords. Zuccotto dual wielded small axes for melee and the quintuplets learned to better utilize their physical size and be brawlers. Effiler and Angel discovered their calling as sharpshooters, who could work guns with precise aims and man artillery cannons.

Sometimes Perospero would think back on that day, over a decade ago, when he first became an older brother, where it all began. The sound of babies cry under the howling wind, Compote holding his hand, and the overwhelming joy that filled his heart. Perospero wondered why a story like that—a story that started with the beauty of life—would end here with him watching without objection, as Katakuri demonstrated with a bag of jellybeans to eight-year-old Angel the difference between shooting to maim and shooting to kill, on sobbing captives with blood in their mouths and intestines on the floor.

Did something gone amiss somewhere along the way, some sort of moral compass that had long since spun out of control? Perospero did not know.

Mama saw her eldest son lost in thought. She picked him up with a flourish and ran a finger through his hair, tickling to make him giggle. Perospero sat on her large palm and hugged her thumb, relishing in the protection she offered. Family and love and safety, these were what really mattered.

Mama put him in charge of their next naval raid on a cargo cruise. Perospero accepted with a fervent nod, eager to please.

.

Success of the first raid without needing constant adult supervision put Linlin in a very good mood. In a rare showing of generosity both as captain and as mother, Linlin gave her eldest son one of her most prized possession as reward, acquired during her stint as a ROCKS commander. The sweetest devil fruit in existence, Pero-Pero Fruit, the Candy Fruit.

Perospero took center stage at merienda that day. He used all the skills at his disposal to create opulent candy sculptures of the sweetest flavors, in all the colors of the rainbow, displaying his nature talent as a true artisan. It was a magical afternoon where finally, all the Charlotte children could eat to their hearts content. As gratitude for their Mama’s kindness, Perospero concluded the tea party by crafting her a sparkling candy rose with a thousand delicious silk-thin petals, presented with a kiss to her cheek and as a token of his loyalty never straying.

Together they formed this crew of thirty-five, including two humanized elemental homies and an animated singing ship, with five devil fruit users on board but only two adults under the flag. Six months later, Charlotte Linlin’s pirate crew would start to be known by a very different name. It was not too long after her young sons and daughters pillaged a small country in her honor, like a group of obedient puppets under her command.

It was terrifying, the newspaper denounced, spreading the word far and wide. A horrendous mother leading a crew of prepubescent child soldiers, and _that_ was the beginning of the Big Mom Pirates fame.

.

.

 

_fin...?_

_(epilogue, next chap.)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It made more sense for Big Mom Pirates to be named due to the crew consisting primarily of children at the beginning, not merely because Charlotte Linlin was a mother.
> 
> headcanon: Perospero and Katakuri in particular remained loyal to Big Mom despite being treated like shit was because throughout their childhood, all other adults they had ever met— _every single one_ —literally treated them worse. That would warp their understanding on what good parenting entail. At least Linlin didn’t starve, rape, burn, disfigure, torture, or attempt to sell them into slavery...


	6. Sweets (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years later, Charlotte Linlin now had established territories for her dream of Tottoland to flourish. Life, however, was not always fun and games in this supposed paradise.
> 
> aka that one time Cracker vs Katakuri happened, then everything went to hell.

**Sweets (epilogue)**

~ 35 to 30 years ago ~

Charlotte Linlin had the Big Mom Pirates set sail to the island that started it all on the day her eldest twins turn fifteen. That night, she gathered all thirty-four of her children around a chocolate-ganache cherry cake that took up the entire upper deck. Under the luminescent of candlelight and birthday cheer, Mama showed her children the cherished portrait of Mother Carmel and told them about her lifelong dream. A country that would be paradise, where people of all races could live together in harmony.

So the good children learned to build instead of destroy, with the riches they had collected over the past two years on the sea and the many pirate fleets congregated under Mama’s banner. A small town settled by the river in the middle of that special island. A small beginning that gradually grew larger, until it eventually became a flourishing city as more people flocked to their promise of safety and welfare.

Compote married a handsome fugitive noble five years later when she turned twenty. On that day, the city was given an official name as the capital of Tottoland—Sweet City—the perfect dowry for the perfect wedding ceremony.

.

~ 27 years ago ~  
Cracker (age 18), Katakuri (age 21)

A large manor was erected to the east of Sweet City where the Charlotte family finally had their permanent home, as the self-appointed ruling house of Tottoland. Southwest of the river was an open meadow where recruits of the extended pirate fleet carried out their daily training.

It started on a day like any other, the serenity and peace of everyday normalcy. An event that changed everything.

Charlotte Cracker was eighteen, and had received his devil fruit in the very recent months. A power that felt like it was made just for him. Cracker had learned how to mix cookie dough and bake biscuits under Brother Perospero and Brother Oven since he was five, and he could recite two hundred different cookie recipes in his sleep. Bisu-Bisu Fruit, the Biscuit Fruit, allowed Cracker to bypass all ingredient preparations and cooking time to create an infinite variety of delicious biscuits at nothing but a thought and a clap of hands. From the crispy bizcochitos to the hardest of hardtacks.

It was probably intended as a support-oriented ability originally, but Cracker had this brilliant idea to use it for combat.

Katakuri and his triplet brothers sat on the trimmed grass along the outskirt of the training ground. Spectators to watch Charlotte Cracker spar, taking on a platoon of thirty outlier crewmen and half a dozen of their younger siblings at once.

Cracker had grown to three meters tall since his growth spurt, and his treasured broadsword Pretzel was even longer than his height, giving him an advantageous offensive reach. For defense, Cracker levitated multiple hard biscuits around him as moving shields, all the while displaying great agility as he darted around the field systematically taking down his opponents in record time. None of those however, were where his true talent lie.

Cracker only showcased that when young Dosmarche raised a reinforced steel shield in an attempt to protect himself, and Pretzel turned hardened black in Cracker’s hand. The sword sliced through steel like it was hot butter. His armament haki so potent it seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t cut.

“Cracker though, he is a very gifted kid,” Daifuku observed, his tone considering. “Think you can still take him, Katakuri?”

Oven somehow took offense to that. “Of course he can! Katakuri is the best at everything!”

Daifuku slapped his younger brother over the head, “You should honestly grow out of your hero worship by now.” He turned back to the older of his siblings, “What do you think?”

Katakuri hummed playfully underneath his scarf. “Why don’t we find out?” Katakuri replied, rising to stand as he unclasped his trident Mogura from its belt holder.

.

For Cracker, he had always associated Charlotte Katakuri with the word monster. Not in the negative sense, but rather in the awe-inspiring yet ultimately terrifying sense. When Cracker was four years old, he witnessed Brother Katakuri—then only seven years old—singlehandedly torn apart a devil fruit user like a rag doll. The memory of that fateful night stayed with him to this day.

So, when Katakuri entered the sparring area with a simple greeting and a gesture for others to clear the way, Cracker’s first reaction was unfiltered shock. Then the adrenaline of excitement caught up with his brain.

Brother Katakuri had grown to an imposing height since his teenage years. Now twenty-one, he stood at around five meters tall and among the very few within this country to completely dwarf Cracker in his shadow. Cracker had to look up at his older brother and he swallowed, feeling every inch of both the literal and the figurative distance stretching out between them. It was exhilarating.

There were ten hard biscuit shields spinning in a languid circle around Cracker when Katakuri took up position before him, and Cracker knew his older brother was not going to give him any opening to make more, so ten would have to do. He ran towards Katakuri as he spun his haki hardened sword, using his ‘Roll Pretzel’ technique to aim at his brother’s calf. Katakuri was extremely fast despite his size, sidestepping gracefully as he made his move to slash at Cracker’s exposed back.

Mogura connected with a biscuit shield, clashing with an echoing clang. The biscuit held, repelling the attack. Cracker smirked, jumping back to give a wider berth.

“My biscuits are quite tough, wouldn't you say?” Cracker grinned.

“Quite,” Katakuri agreed. He tilted his head in contemplation as he leveled Mogura, then spun the trident in a perfect mimicry of what his little brother had done mere moments prior, before striking at the nearest biscuit shield. Cracker widened his eyes. The biscuit was unable to withstand the full force of Katakuri’s strength combined with rotational energy, its surface cracked before exploding into several pieces. “But not hard enough to take your own technique it seems.”

Cracker pouted, uncertain whether he should feel offended or flattered. “Well, looks like I’ll just have to show you some tricks up my sleeve that you can’t copy!” Cracker pointed the tip of his broadsword up at his much taller brother. The destroyed biscuit fragments began to move at his silent command, turning into crumb dust whirling in the air, before once again taking form.

Katakuri blinked in surprise. There were now two edible Pretzel clones hovering before his eyes. “Interesting,” Katakuri acknowledged.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Cracker called, coming in for round two with a slew of aggressive slashes and stabs.

Katakuri quickly analyzed the changing situation, skillfully avoiding attacks coming from both above and below at three different angles. His superior observation haki allowed him to perceive Cracker’s presence and the intention behind every move, but Cracker was also a fairly agile fighter. It was not easy to catch his little brother when so many biscuits were getting in the way.

Another two biscuit shields destroyed, turning into four more floating swords. Katakuri leaped backwards, dodging a wide sweep from above that caused the ground to crater, before blocking an attack with his trident and another with his knee guard. Cracker himself came in with a haki hardened jab, but Katakuri’s reaction speed was phenomenal. Cracker was grabbed by the wrist and thrown across the meadow.

Katakuri immediately gave chase as his little brother was temporarily immobilized in midair, aiming his trident at Cracker’s torso and thrust with adjusted force. He shouldn’t have worried though, since Cracker managed to block it at the last second by summoning another biscuit with a clap. He landed on a skid, before attempting to get a safer distance away by doing cartwheels. Katakuri wasn’t going to let him off so easily though, and he followed that up with consecutive stomping kicks that punctured deep holes into the ground with the spurs on the heel of his boots.

Katakuri had to cease his relentless pursuit when biscuit swords came at him from behind, because sometimes the best defense was a good offense. He broke two more shields blocking his way, so five biscuits remained, but now with thirteen swords to fight.

Cracker pulled himself into a more steady stance. He licked his lips, high on passion with a manic grin spreading across his face. He prepared for a final attack.

Katakuri glanced at his little brother with his penetrating crimson gaze.

They moved.

.

Katakuri (age 21)

“I told you,” Oven sniggered, nudging Daifuku with an elbow. Daifuku rolled his eyes and humphed.

The sparring competition ended with Cracker wheezing on the ground, the tip of Mogura touching his throat, while the closest hovering Pretzel clone was a meter away and the real Pretzel sword knocked from his grip. Katakuri had won, by successfully dodging all twelve cloned swords and deftly slipping between the hard biscuit shields to rapid blitz Cracker himself. Though in doing so he could not completely evade Cracker’s final counterattack. Katakuri knew this, so instead he used armament hardening over his forearm as protection before knocking the sword away, winning him the match.

Oven went over to pull Cracker up, with a congratulatory slap on the shoulder for putting up a fantastic performance. Katakuri however lifted his hand thoughtfully, to inspect a tiny cut on his right forearm. The thin line of blood an undeniable evidence that Cracker’s armament haki was actually capable of piercing through his own. Katakuri traced the small wound with a thumb, the smile tugging on his lips hidden by the scarf.

Daifuku noticed the focus of his brother’s attention and smirked. He knew he was right about Charlotte Cracker being a very gifted kid.

They watched their younger siblings laugh and play in the meadow, with the afternoon sun shining warm and bright, under the peace of everyday normalcy so hard to come by once upon a time. Katakuri realized, this was probably what happiness was like.

.

That was when the screaming started.

It came from the west, where the main port located. Mama was due to return home from raid that day. Yet when they heard her voice, it reverberated like an unrecognizable wrathful beast.

The Charlotte siblings were confused and scared, unable to identify the cause of this unexplainable change. A thunderstorm was brewing at a distance, swiftly approaching, and a large group of men and women from Mama’s personal crew were fleeing their way. Chef Streusen was at the forefront, hollering at the top of his lungs, “Run away, children! Linlin is having an episode of hunger pangs!”

But the warning held no meaning to the frightened children then, for unlike the experienced head-chef who had accompanied their Mama throughout her life, that was the very first time they encountered this reoccurring nightmare. To figure out the situation, Katakuri as the tallest and fastest went to meet the head-chef halfway. “What is going on?”

Streusen quickly explained to the second eldest son as he continued to run. “Linlin wants vanilla mille-feuille. If she doesn’t get it, she won’t stop!”

As the old chef ran on ahead towards the city so he could start on making that dessert, Katakuri came to a snap decision. He quickly directed the younger siblings to retreat with the fleeing crowd, before turning to the older members among his family. “Cracker, Custard, Cadenza, Cabaletta! Stay and guard the meadow!” Katakuri ordered, “Daifuku, Oven! Come with me, we’re stopping Mama right here!”

Katakuri didn’t wait for their reply, he was already running toward the source of this unprecedented disaster. “Mama! I have your vanilla mille-feuille!” Katakuri called, staring up at the towering form of his own mother, unfaltering and unafraid even as a blanket of otherworldly chill washed over his soul. The thundercloud overhead twisted and rumbled.

His mother’s attention was zeroed in on him, her eyes crazed with deep-seated insanity. Their temporary impasse broken when a large palm came down. Katakuri sidestepped to avoid being squashed into mincemeat in a crater, then leaped backwards, adeptly manipulating his position so that he could gradually lead his Mama away.

Katakuri had always known he was an exceptionally brilliant practitioner in the art of observation, but rarely was he ever put in a situation where a single mistake could potentially be so lethal. Mama’s screams throbbed with a resounding echo hammering on his eardrums, her hits caused the earth to shake, and her footsteps made the ground tremble. Katakuri somersaulted between difficult handstand maneuvers to avoid every attack, his lithe figure slowly backing away, determined to keep his Mama occupied for however long chef Streusen needed to make that pastry. He had to keep her away from the meadow, from the city, where the majority of his beloved family were at.

Katakuri was focused, calm, observation haki keyed on the presence of every intent and every movement coming his way...

... Katakuri did _not_ sense it until the lightning struck.

Because how could he, when water vapor had no life and no presence of thoughts? Nothing for even the sharpest observation haki to pick up on, to detect.

That million volts of electricity ran through his body, paralyzing his mind and stunned his mobility for an instant too long, and then Katakuri was smacked. His mother’s large palm hit like a hundred ton boulder at terminal velocity from the left. He was sent flying to the other side of the island, until he crashed into the base of a hill.

Daifuku and Oven paled, with their weapons drawn. Before them, Zeus was a growing black ball of raging thunderclap and Prometheus was an ever expanding inferno.

Katakuri was the first to go down, and that was just the beginning.

.

Cracker (age 18)

Cracker knew at once when he saw Brother Katakuri being taken out, that everything had officially went from dire to thoroughly fucked.

On the other side of open field, the remaining fraternal triplets pulled out everything in their arsenal to be major annoyances to the primary homies. Daifuku lashing out with wide range gust slashes to keep Prometheus from taking a more condensed form, though ultimately he knew nothing would do permanent damage. Oven was using his ‘Heat Denasshi’ punch to create immense hot winds to try to blow Zeus away. Despite their coordinated efforts, the two triplets were still being steadily cornered back.

Cracker could not afford to be distracted at the moment however, because a fist aimed at him was coming from Mama herself. He rolled aside at the last second to avoid being flattened into cookie dough. He would worry about his older brothers later, he had a bigger problem now. Mama was chasing after him, astonishingly fast, and made a move to grab. Cracker clapped, generating a hard biscuit before him to block her assault. The biscuit was seized and crushed into crumbs in her hand. Mama’s base strength was so strong it was ridiculous.

Cadenza and Custard went in from behind, trying to hit the weaker spot on their Mama’s ankle. Cracker didn’t even had the chance to warn his brother before Cadenza was thwacked like a bothersome pest, a young man of that gigantic size easily sent flying off into the river at a distance from nothing but a casual offhanded brush.

Custard only managed to avoid a similar fate by delicately swishing her rapier, using an aerial fencing parry to somewhat divert the attack coming her way. She was still grazed, upper arm purpled with bruise, but it bought her a chance to escape Mama’s immediate attention by performing successive backflips.

Mama went after Cabaletta next, trying to step on him with her foot. Cabaletta was the fastest of the quintuplets. He was for the most part successful in evading her kicks, but when Mama went in from his blind spot with a fist, Cracker had to produce biscuit shields to protect his older brother from out right getting killed. The quintuplets might be relatively proficient in armament haki, but they were somewhat lacking in the department of observation. Though truth be told, neither of them could really compare to Brother Katakuri when it came to haki precognition and reaction reflex.

That became a huge problem when Mama cracked open a wide area with a heavy stamp. Both Cabaletta and Cracker had to jump to avoid losing balance on the lumpy shaking ground, but neither of them foresaw Mama to immediately follow that with a backhanded sweep at them in midair.

Cabaletta used haki hardening over his forearms to tank the attack, and Cracker did the same by using his Pretzel sword. It proved to no avail when Cabaletta’s haki defense completely shattered, along with all the bones in his arms and most of his ribcage, unconscious before he even touched the ground.

Cracker’s armament haki on the other hand managed to endure through like a desperate miracle, and had somewhat nullified the force behind that devastating blow. He landed on his feet right beside Custard, but they were not out of Mama’s range and she wasn’t going to give them any chance to catch their breath. The next sweep came, too fast and vicious.

Custard and Cracker crossed their blades together and mustered all their combined will into a protective haki hardening shield. Their teamwork saved their lives, but even their collaborative might did little to stop Mama from bodily throwing them backward, past the river in the direction of the city capital. Custard was sent colliding into a fashion store located at the outermost section of Sweet City, while Cracker crashed into an outpost clinic across the street. Bottles and syringes breaking, glass and needles rained down upon him with a hundred tiny pinpricks. Cracker tried to shield himself, looking up to get an idea on his bearings...

... that was when a jar of highly corrosive liquid tipped, pouring down the right side of his face.

Cracker had never felt pain like this in his entire life. All his nerve endings were on fire, it was as if his eye were melting through his skull. He was blind, couldn’t get away, abstractly he realized he was screaming. Cracker howled, crawled, pulling himself out of the rubble on all four. Half of his face a bloody mess.

The nightmare didn’t stop.

.

Someone was standing over him, talking in an urgent tone. Brother Perospero was there beside him now, supporting Custard over one shoulder even as he tried to help Cracker get up.

Why, wasn’t Brother Peros back in the city...? Cracker felt disoriented and concussed. Oh right, he was sent crashing into Sweet City, because Mama was so damn strong. Perospero had noticed mayhem in the streets and came personally to check. “Cracker, Cracker. Can you hear me?”

“ ‘m fine,” Cracker mumbled, pulling himself up on unsteady legs. He felt awful when he saw Custard hanging lax over Perospero’s shoulder. Custard was severely wounded under his watch, with her dominant arm completely dislocated and barely clinging to consciousness. He could not protect his younger triplet sister, goddamnit.

Chef Streusen had just arrived at the city and as he turned a street corner, he saw the three children in various shape of disarray. He hurried over to pull at Perospero’s long sleeve, demanding the eldest Charlotte son to abandon his younger siblings and to quickly escape. Perospero ignored the old man’s plea. “What is going on?”

“Mama is coming, Brother Peros. She is attacking everyone indiscriminately, unless we buy enough time to make her a vanilla mille-feuille,” Cracker explained, bitter at his own weakness.

“W-what? But Sweet City...!” Perospero shook his head, overwrought and extremely upset.

“Sweet City is doomed from the start,” Streusen interrupted, his expression stern. “We should leave while we still can, return later when the vanilla mille-feuille is ready.”

“We can’t leave! I can’t leave, I can’t!” Cracker screamed, hysterical. “This is Mama’s dream, this is our family’s dream! I will _not_ allow Sweet City to fall, while I run with tail between my legs!”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? Not even an army could stop Linlin in this state, and we don’t even have that!” Streusen raised his voice, wanting the young boy to see sense. “Look around you, Charlotte Cracker! This is what we have, civilians and a group of naive children who know nothing about powers in the real world!”

Perospero frowned at the old man’s harsh words, Cracker clenched his teeth.

“You want an army?” Cracker seethed quietly. He wiped away the blood still dripping down his face, to clear at least part of his remaining left field vision, before spreading his arms wide. “THEN I’LL CREATE YOU AN ARMY!” Cracker shouted. He clapped his hands together.

Producer type of Paramecia devil fruits that could generate solid substance all had the potential to construct clone doubles, but nobody had ever tried to create an army. It simply took up too much stamina and concentration to control that many individuals with one mind. Well, Cracker thought. If an army was what needed to temporarily halt Mama’s approaching footsteps, then he would create an army.

“Take care of Custard, Brother Peros,” Cracker breathed, addressing his eldest brother. “And get head-chef Streusen somewhere with a good kitchen, we need that dessert cooked.”

Perospero’s hands gripped Custard gently around her waist, in a secure cuddle, to let her lean against his chest. “And you?”

“I’ll be right here, as the last line of defense,” Cracker stated, drawing a line down the street with his broadsword, his conviction absolute. “I will make sure destruction to the city spread no further.”

Perospero looked at his younger brother, finally he nodded. With a precise flick of his slender wrist, translucent candy droplets flew from his fingertips and sprinkled over Cracker before molding into a thin hard biofilm. “Candy Armor,” Perospero whispered. “Do not die, little brother.”

Then they were off, not even time to say goodbye. Mama’s cacophonous voice was already ringing throughout the city.

“VANILLA~ MILLE-FEUILLE!!”

“Over my dead body, Mama,” Cracker snarled. Squadrons of biscuit soldiers were summoned to life behind him, becoming the last troops to feed a battle he knew he could never win. The air picking up an ethereal sting to signal his mother’s arrival.

Cracker drawn his weapon and did not waver, to face down this impossible challenge.

.

Katakuri (age 21)

Two bodies fell, slamming into the ground with loud thumps not too far from where Katakuri had landed. Daifuku with his body thoroughly torched by Prometheus’ blaze, and Oven still spasming from Zeus’ thunderbolts. They were unconscious and completely out of commission.

Weather had no intent, no thoughts. It could not be read, it could not be understood, it could not be predicted. A nature system with no life presence for even the keenest observation haki to observe.

Katakuri coughed up blood, fingers clawed into the dirt and knees shifted underneath him, trying to stand. Half the bones in his body were probably splintered, Katakuri thought. His legs could not support his weight without trembling on every step, and he had trouble lifting his left arm, numbed from the shoulder down. Yet he could not let the elemental homies return to Mama, or the city was finished... and his precious family as good as gone.

Katakuri picked up a heavy log from the ground, a branch broken off from when he had previously rammed through, and threw it at Prometheus. It flew harmlessly past the homie’s intangible form, before burning to cinder, but it got their attention.

“Prometheus! Zeus!” Katakuri shouted, even as he limped with some difficulty on the uneven ground so far below. “I’m not done!”

Zeus peered down at him with a lazy eye, and then the two homies grew and grew, until it seemed like they covered the entire sky. Katakuri clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. He could not move faster than Zeus’ lightning, he could not evade Prometheus’ precise flames by impulsively dodging while dragging an injured leg.

Hundred of attacks were going to come at him from a thousand different directions from the sky, coordinated by two entities with no detectable presence and seemingly impervious to observation haki.

Knowing perfectly well that if another hit were to land, it would be his last. Katakuri glared, and did not look away.

.

Cracker (age 18), Katakuri (age 21)

Purposefully or not, this was not the first time Charlotte Linlin hurt her children and it certainly would not be the last. She was not a good mother in any sense of the word, but her children could not truly fault their mother for a condition she herself had no control over. In time, her children would learn from past experiences, and they would work together to find the best solution suited to manage another similar crisis. They would learn how to take care of their Mama in return, to repay every tiny sliver of affection she had deemed worthwhile to offer them. Love, such rare commodity on the seas.

This time though? It took almost three hours for chef Streusen to make that vanilla mille-feuille, to quell their Mama’s hunger induced madness. During this misadventure, two brothers who refused to run came very close to death, but ultimately held their ground and survived.

Cracker managed to stall his insanely powerful mother to a temporary standstill despite being alone and half-blinded at the time, to do so he became his own one man army. Katakuri completely evaded the continuous onslaught of the invincible element homies while sustaining a physical limp, attaining a level of clairvoyance previously thought of as a theoretical impossibility on observation haki. They proved themselves to be the undisputed best of the Charlotte children that day, and thus a new position of honor was instated within the family ranks.

Charlotte Cracker and Charlotte Katakuri were given the title Sweet Commanders, named after Sweet City, the dream paradise they had laid down their lives to save.

.

.

  
_fin._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and staying with me till the very end. Now with established territories and the position of Sweet Commanders officially introduced, with the backstory behind their signature abilities told, this marked Big Mom Pirates’ true beginning as a future yonko crew.
> 
> Incidentally, eighteen and twenty-one are common legal ages around the world, serving as the thematic milestone to conclude this childhood story.
> 
> .
> 
> **Other Notes**
> 
> Someone within the Charlotte family _must_ be immune to Big Mom’s soul power, otherwise the children wouldn’t know to protect themselves by being unafraid, thus Cracker and Katakuri. Cracker’s ‘Roll Pretzel’ and Katakuri’s ‘Mochi Tsuki’ are pretty similar techniques, Katakuri totally stole it to troll his little brother, exactly like how he copied Luffy, because deep down he is actually a little shit who prank on younger siblings with a straight face. Cracker’s aversion to pain and needles is interpreted as a psychological condition, as it gave him flashbacks to when he almost had his eye melted. Cracker got the biscuit armor idea from Perospero’s candy armor. I believe the theory that Streusen was the father of Perospero and Compote, that was why he was especially concerned when Perospero was potentially in danger.
> 
> On the topic about homies: Luffy’s observation haki could NOT detect the presence of anything in Seducing Woods iirc, meaning homies do not register as living beings by CoO and thus are actually impervious to 99.99% of observation practitioners in One Piece. Katakuri being the only current known exception. Katakuri didn’t have his devil fruit power in this chapter btw, that was why he never use it. A somewhat controversial storyline was written for the Mochi-Mochi Fruit as Ch3. in **Family Album** , for plot reasons it was deliberately dated one year after the event in this epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was now split into two parts, because thematically they did not flow well together. This first part **As a Charlotte Child** would be darker and recounted the earlier years of the older children in chronological order. The second part **Family Album** would be independent stories centered around the middle and younger children.


End file.
